#20: ANOTHER UPDATE - My Mom is Dying From Cancer, But She is Living With Unspeakable Joy

Some (additional) thoughts on saying goodbye to my mom ...

November 27, 2024

Against all odds and to everyone’s shock and amazement, my mom is still with us. She turned 86 on November 13, 2024, and I was with her in Orlando to celebrate.

Since my last update, mom now experiences significant debilitating pain and is on a painkiller regimen, including morphine, that works quite well, but which also required the loss of her car keys. Taking a parent’s keys is one of the hardest things we do as kids when the time comes. Fortunately, for me, my sister bore the brunt of that one. I just had to support her decision (which is no easy feat when your mom has survived on 12 months of borrowed time and retains her full “stubborn” personality)!

Mom hasn’t taken one ounce of medication to treat her cancer, only medicine to manage her pain. She moved from oncology care to hospice care in July 2023, given her then 6 to 9 month timeline, and remains on hospice to this day. She meets with her nurse twice a week, but doesn’t require further “medical” support beyond an occasional emergency or two. But it will be there for her when the time comes.

Mom does, however, require a lot more help in her day-to-day life since she’s now, in her words, “slow as molasses in January.” Getting a bowl of cereal has become an overwhelming task. So the care burden is much higher than it was 6 months ago. But mom has ZERO interest in an outside caregiver, aka gofer. My sister has managed her care with stunning efficiency to date, but she still has a family and job that require her attention, so she can’t add to her plate.

Enter Kelley.

I’ve been back to Florida three times since September and will return again Friday, the day after Thanksgiving. This time I will stay for two weeks, instead of my usual week to 10 days. It will be the longest period of time Chris and I have been apart since we were married, so it’ll be an interesting experiment, for both of us. When Chris is gone and I’m at home, I revert to teenager life. When Chris is home alone, he reverts to bachelor life (which for him also includes cooking, but usually the same thing every day!).

—

Over the course of her illness, my mom and I have grown very close and have developed the special relationship I coveted as a child, only to have it elude me. I was the baby of four and tended to be “brought along for the ride” most of the time. I moved away after high school, never to return to Orlando, so things never really got on track.

All of that has changed now … and with my husband’s full support, I have the privilege of taking care of my mom, or more accurately, being a “friend who helps out” to my mom.

When she lost her keys and much of her mobility, I offered to step in the breach and she graciously accepted. But my offer was more selfish than I should admit. I think I benefit as much, if not more, from being with mom than she with me.

My sister (who lives a mile from mom in Orlando) and I are coordinating to share the load so mom is with one of her daughters, as opposed to an outside caregiver, at all times (when she needs it). My sister and I have never been close either (we’re as opposite as night and day), so this is the first time we’re working as team with a common goal … to love mom through to the end.

Naturally, the emotional roller coaster of being on and off death watch has been an unpredictable hot mess, but, at the end of the day, I’m the lucky one. Given my current personal and professional flexibility, I can play the role of a lifetime: loving my mom and sister and being loved in return, with no strings attached.

Given my travels, my writing isn’t regular, but there’s a season for everything, something I’m trying to learn to be patient with myself. Having time to think and marinate is a good thing, right?

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Most importantly, as we enter the holiday season beginning with Thanksgiving Day tomorrow, let’s slow down long enough to focus on what’s going right in our lives, even if it’s as simple or seemingly insignificant as acknowledging that our morning coffee was particularly tasty. I’ve been in this place before (where great coffee was the only thing that went right in a day), and it wasn’t too long ago. In fact, during the aftermath of COVID, my husband and I started a daily habit to talk about “what went right today” over dinner, which was usually takeout on the couch. Some days, the list was short, but, in time, we came to realize how fortunate we were (and still are) to have a roof over our heads, a comfortable bed, excellent water pressure, healthy food on the table, and financial stability with my husband’s job.

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Mom’s hospice nurse, Michelle, says that mom is dying by millimeters instead of miles, but that she is dying. She doesn’t look like she’s dying, but, alas, the protruding tumors and brokenness in her body tell a different story.

Particularly for those of us in good health, let us be grateful and kind tomorrow, and in the days ahead, even if we’re in a tough place otherwise. Sometimes we must live life by millimeters, not miles, but we are living nonetheless.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all … and here’s to living well, at whatever pace that is.

With gratitude and thanks …

Warmly,

Kelley

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December 5, 2023

Mom turned 85 last month. She will die before she turns 86.

As of this morning, she has about 2 - 3 months left, per the hospice nurse. Aside from shortness of breath (half of each lung is no longer functioning from the metastasized cancer) which she treats with oxygen, she isn’t having much pain or discomfort to speak of. Sometimes I forget that she is dying since she doesn’t “sound” or “act” sick, doesn’t fear death in the least, and has total and complete peace about the time, place, and manner of her passing. It’s a sight to see …

Truth be told, mom’s attitude has been the gift I didn’t know I needed … in fact, none of her children, children-in-law, or grandchildren are afraid, nervous, or tied up in knots about her cancer or the process of her dying. We are desperately sad, but we are not mad … at God, or anyone else.

Spending Time

I’ve been spending a lot of time with mom on the phone - and in person - as often as possible, at least once, sometimes twice, each day. Some calls are long, some are short, all are precious. I think I’m so focused on her living that I’ve not flipped the switch and woken up to the fact that she is dying. Maybe that’s because only her mortal body will die; her soul will live forever.

A friend recently asked … how do you really know that, Kelley?

I answered, I know her soul will live forever because the Bible tells me so. Moreover, given my long drawn out journey back to faith, a journey that involved significant research, including combing over the evidence to support the validity and reliability of the Scriptures, I believe every word in it.

That is, I believe every word in the Bible as written in its original languages and translated into English with faith and fidelity to the original text and meaning. Not all translations are created equal and the bad ones are trash that should never be read, by anyone. They’re counterfeits, plain and simple, and while they deliver news of some sort, it’s not the good news of Christianity.

But, this concept of believing all of it, even the hard parts, was a really hard thing for me to get my head around. I would ask … do I really have to believe it all? Even the women stuff that I don’t really understand?

Yes, it’s all or none.

Believe it all, or move on and believe in something else.

Your choice.

At the end of the day, the Bible is either the verbally inspired, inerrant, and complete Word of God, or it isn’t. It’s like a recipe, you follow it precisely and it will produce what it promises. If you don’t, it won’t. You’ll get something, but it will be a facsimile or a counterfeit, not the real thing.

Not too long ago, I was making cornbread and we were out of eggs. So, I summoned the Googles and - kaboom - use bananas in their place. Yeah … it was as bad as you’re imagining. I think I once tried monk fruit in place of sugar for brownies from scratch. They quickly became brownies in the trash. We now keep plenty of pure cane sugar in the cupboard to support my nervous baking habit.

I mention all of the above because (1) it’s true, and (2) it’s been such a strangely unexpected experience that I’ll likely doubt any of it really happened if I don’t write it down in real time.

But, make no mistake, both my dad’s passing in 2006 and my mom’s path to passing in 2023 have been forcing functions for me to ask and answer the big questions in life. Most of us ignore them and just deflect to avoid confronting them at all, but one day the bill comes due and, alas, we pay it or ignore it, at our own peril.

Back soon with more on my journey into worldview.

xo,

Kelley

—

A quick update - on the personal side!

July 2023

“I have some news to share with you, Kelley. I have breast cancer.”

My husband and I were driving home from an appointment when we received a call from my mom. We still had about an hour on the road and we were enjoying the early summer sun and all that comes with that.

It was a beautiful drive …. until it wasn’t.

My mom had just come home from her biopsy appointment earlier that morning.

I was in total shock.

Mom continued …

“They will know more in about 2 weeks after all of the tests are in, but the doctor did confirm that, based on his extensive experience, the tumors are malignant. He didn’t want me getting my hopes up and thinking that this was going to be a ‘nothing burger’.”

I was gut punched … all of this was coming over blue tooth while Chris was driving and I hunched over in the passenger’s seat.

A few days later …. before the PET scan and MRI …

Mom calls again.

The cancer has spread. My lymph nodes are a mess. He says I have about a year if it goes untreated. But I still have the PET scan and MRI, which will tell us more.

Mom did the PET scan, but couldn’t handle the MRI - it put too much pressure on her diaphragm and she couldn’t breathe. They would have to finalize the diagnosis without it.

Two weeks later… diagnosis day …

September 12, 2023

Mom texted me:

The news is not good. I have Stage 4 cancer and it is now showing up in my lungs. It’s chemo/radiation and antibodies or do nothing. GOD’S PEACE is great in me. There is no ultimate cure. Will make my decision as soon as possible. In the meantime, I’m on pills, hormone blockers, until I decide. We will talk soon. Right now I just want to be silent before the LORD. Sipping on a large Starbucks Hot Chocolate, my drug of choice. I’m well! Love you!!!!

It was a death sentence. I’d just learned that my mom is dying of cancer and that she isn’t going to get any better.

Naturally, I was shocked. devastated. crushed. exhausted. sad.

A few days later ….

I was still shocked. devastated. crushed. exhausted. sad.

But I was also at peace.

I am still shocked. devastated. crushed. exhausted. sad.

And I am still at peace.

I am at peace because my mom is at peace.

My siblings are at peace because my mom is at peace.

A Story of Peace

I’ve read many heartbreaking, soul crushing, horrendous stories of cancer. But my mom’s isn’t one of those (at least not entirely).

Why my mom is at peace is the more interesting story than her cancer. Truth be told, I am living the story of her peace, of her joy, more than the story of her cancer. It’s all very surreal and I feel a bit like a whirling dervish, but I’m going with it.

Enter Hospice

Mom has entered hospice care.

I used to think that those on hospice were at death’s door and were hardly functioning. That was certainly the case with my dad - he was in a nursing home with Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s diseases when he came to the end. But, that’s certainly not the case with mom.

My mom looks amazing.

She’s a few weeks from 85, still pulls herself together everyday (she’s always been this way - even while raising four crazy kids), and does what she can in a given day. I wanted to include a pic of her, by she didn’t like any of them, so you’ll just have to take my word for it!

Sometimes I forget that mom is in her final act, as she’s been largely asymptomatic, until now. The disease, an aggressive form of HER2+ breast cancer, has colonized her lymph nodes, lungs, and is now in her bones. She qualified for hospice care because she’s not expected to live more than six months.

Mom has discontinued the hormone pills, and has declined any and all further treatment, save palliative care when the time comes for pain relief.

To be clear, she is living with cancer, and will ultimately die from cancer, not the treatment for cancer. There will be no side effects from treatments that won’t cure her, there will only be living, until there isn’t.

She is MORE than ready to be in Heaven with the Lord.

A Gentle Passing

While home, I was present for her checkup with the hospice nurse. We talked a lot about what to expect over the coming months. Mom will slowly lose her energy, have labored breathing, and need to rest more and more. This process is well underway. She gets bursts of energy and takes advantage of them, which always includes a stop at Starbucks for a hot chocolate and blueberry muffin, then needs a recovery day, or two, or three.

The nurse does not believe she will experience much pain through this final phase of her cancer journey. She will simply rest and sleep for progressively longer periods of time, until one day, she will gently pass on and be home with Jesus Christ.

The grace that God is extending to her, and her children, through this extremely painful process is unfathomable to me. But it is this grace, and this grace alone, that gives my mom a peace that truly passes all understanding, and it is His life in her, and only His life in her, that gives her an unspeakable joy.

Unexpectedly, this peace and this joy has been extended beyond my mom, it has been extended to me as well. It is this peace and this joy that has created a trusted space for me to have a deep and meaningful friendship with my mom in her final days.

She and I had a handful (well, a lot of handfuls) of rough patches over the years, but this new season has given us a path for deep honest conversation, heart-level healing, and full reconciliation of the past with the present.

I realize that if you aren’t a Bible believing Christian, all of this may sound crazy. I used to think she was a lunatic for being so “ready to die” and to be “with Jesus” and, to make matters worse, for being very vocal about it. But, I’m now a co-lunatic with her! More on all of this another time.

When mom passes, there will no open loops, no unsaid words, and no regret over unresolved issues. I will mourn the loss not just of my mom, but also my friend, my teacher, and my confidant. I will mourn the one who, having raised me, knows me better than anyone else.

So, while mom’s Earthly story, her temporal story, is ending, mine, in many ways, is just beginning.

And, this is the story I will share, as best I can, when I am ready.

Always Talk From the Scar, Not the Wound

It’s hard to tell a story while you’re living it.

You’re inside the jar, so you can’t see things objectively and no one has a clue how to process your ever-changing feelings. You’re bound up in a bundle of emotions that - at some point - hurled you into a 24/7 spin cycle you fear may never end.

It’s gory, gross, and ugly.

It’s the messy middle.

Fortunately, every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end.

As for now, I’m in the icky, yucky, messy middle right now and I’m feeling pretty raw and beat up.

My defenses are down, and my heart is broken into a thousand pieces.

It feels like it’s sprawled all over the place, just like the contents of my purse after my weekly dump on the kitchen table. It feels like all of my inner secrets are on full display and available for judgment and ridicule.

It feels terrifyingly vulnerable.

So, this is a season for circling the wagons and honoring the purity of the time my mom and I have left.

As the wounds heal, and the scars create a protective layer, I will have more to say. For then, and only then, will I have a full story to tell.

I am still shocked. devastated. crushed. exhausted. sad. But I am also calm. quiet. assured. peaceful. and content.

But don’t confuse joy or contentment with happiness …

To be continued ….

—

Meanwhile, our nation is experiencing a “systemic collapse,” and it needs a fresh infusion of “systemic truth.”

Back soon with a “fresh infusion of truth” … and eventually, a finale to my little #MeToo series.

Thanks for your patience as I find my way through an unfamiliar maze of grief, loss, and a new kind of love.

xo,

Kelley

September 28, 2023